WHEN ANN CHECKED INTO the Plaza, she found that the management had sent her a huge basket of fruit, and May had sent champagne. The card read: “It’s only begun—make the most of it, baby. Love, May.”
In the morning, Ann put on her white suit and spent nearly an hour fussing over her hair and makeup. She knew that Adam was in town because she had checked with his office, using an associate’s name.
She took a cab to his building and sat trembling in the waiting room as the receptionist announced her.
Adam was shaken when he heard her name. “She’ll have to wait a few minutes,” he told the receptionist. He needed time to pull himself together.
Ann. Ann Coulter. The thought of seeing her made his chest tighten. As the shock of hearing her name wore in, that shock turned to anger. How the hell could she show up now, just when he’d finally come to accept his life without her? Did she have any idea how much he had suffered, and all because of her? Did she know what he’d been going through? Did she care? All last summer, he’d avoided her. He’d sent Jeff Cohen to Florida in his place just so he wouldn’t have to see her. He couldn’t. Not on her terms. Yet here she was, on his doorstep. She must be more heartless than he’d ever imagined if she could come back now after leaving without a word.
Adam went to the bar and poured himself a double scotch, which he then downed in a single gulp. He never drank in the middle of the day, but he really needed this one. He had to contain himself, and his fury. He had no idea why Ann had come to see him. Well, he’d just calmly hear her out, and then tell her exactly what he thought of her—which was something he’d been wanting to do for a while.
Out in the waiting area, Ann was as anxious as Adam was angry. Even after the receptionist told her that he would see her, she stood for a long contemplating moment with her hand poised on the knob and swallowed very hard. Now that she was finally here, she scarcely knew how she would handle it. Almost trembling, she took a deep breath and walked in.
Adam was seated at his desk, reviewing what looked to be some sort of legal brief. He didn’t look up at her when she came in. Did he hate her? Had he already found somebody new? His eyes were like Arctic wastes. Ann stood in the middle of his office for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he looked up. “Please have a seat, Mrs. Coulter.” His icy tone sent a chill down Ann’s spine. Could he really have so little feeling for her?
“Adam, please don’t be angry,” she blurted out.
“Don’t be angry? Angry? I’ve just gotten over you and now you show up as though nothing had happened.” His voice was ragged. “What’s the matter, Ann? Is life getting a little too dull out in San Francisco?” This was not what he’d meant to say, not how he’d meant to come across, but he was just too furious to say anything except exactly what he thought.
In spite of his fury, Ann felt a surge of hope. Surely he wouldn’t be this angry if he didn’t still care.
“Well, am I right?” he demanded harshly.
“No, Adam. That’s not why I’m here—”
“Why, then? A little shopping spree, perhaps? Saks is uptown aways, you know.”
On the verge of tears, Ann said, “Adam, I know that you’re angry, and I suppose you have every reason to be.”
“Oh, I do? Well now, that’s mighty big of you, Ann. But I’m not in the mood to play games.”
“I’m getting a divorce.”
Adam froze. When he finally regained his composure, he told his receptionist to hold all calls, and without another word he rose from his desk and took her into his arms. They stood holding each other for several minutes. Then he pressed the intercom again. “Do I have anyone coming in for the rest of the day? Just my lunch date? Please cancel it and say I’ve been called away. I’m afraid I won’t be available until tomorrow.”
He took Ann’s hand and they went down the elevator to the street, where they caught a taxi to Adam’s apartment. A few blocks before they got there, Ann asked, “Can we walk the rest of the way? It’s just beginning to snow.”
“Of course,” he said, his dark eyes twinkling.
Adam took her elbow as they emerged into a swirl of large, soft flakes. Ann’s high heels were totally ill-suited to the wet sidewalk. Each time she slipped, Adam used it as an excuse to pull her close to him. She was dizzy with excitement when they finally reached his building and took the elevator to his penthouse. After opening his door, Adam suddenly swept her up in his arms and carried her over the threshold.
The apartment was very still. Kissing her gently, Adam put her down. “You’re all snowy.”
Almost breathlessly, she answered, “Am I? I hadn’t noticed.”
Helping her off with her coat, he hung it next to his own in the closet. Ann’s hair was dripping.
“Let me get you a towel.” With infinite gentleness, he dried her face and rubbed her hair.
“It’s Gaston’s day off,” he murmured. “Luckily we’re all alone.”
Adam took her face between his hands and lifted it upward. Their lips met. Ann felt a quiver of joy run through her body. For a long moment, she neither thought nor spoke. She only felt.
Instinctively, her arms reached around Adam’s neck, drawing him to her. With an inarticulate sound, he again covered her mouth with his own, gently parting her lips and insistently exploring her mouth with his tongue.
As she ran her fingers through his hair, she felt his hands travel hungrily down her back, burning through the thin silk of her blouse. Slowly, he unbuttoned it, cupping her full breasts. She loosened his belt, feeling him tremble in response. Never had he wanted a woman so desperately.
Ann, too, could wait ho longer. She wanted him to make love to her, needed his thrusting strength inside her.
Unable to postpone the joy a minute longer, they pulled off their clothes and lay on the bed.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered.
Every nerve in her body thrilled to his touch. As he entered her, she knew that there would never be anyone in the world for her except Adam.
For a long time afterward they lay in each others’ arms. Then he began making love to her again. It was less urgent than before, and this time they whispered all the sweet things that lovers say.
Eventually they fell into a contented slumber, and when some hours later Ann opened her eyes, it was to find herself pressed against Adam’s body.
A slow smile curved his lips. “Hi, sleepyhead. How are you?”
“Wonderful,” Ann said, tears starting to her eyes at the loving note in his voice. “Just—wonderful.”
“I love you, you know.”
“I love you too, Adam.”
“Do you mean that?”
Hearing his uncertainty, Ann pressed her lips to his. “With all my heart, darling.”
Stretching, he got out of bed. “I hate to say this, but I’m starving. Do you have the energy to go out? We missed lunch, but we could get an early dinner.”
“Why don’t I just fix us something here?” Ann said.
“All this and you can cook too? How did I get so lucky!” he said, putting on his robe.
Ann sat up and was about to push away the covers when she realized her clothes were scattered from the living room to the hall. Grinning, she said, “I hope you have something I can borrow.”
He started to open drawers, but she shooed him out, saying, “I think I can manage.”
A little while later she came into the kitchen wrapped in an enormous maroon silk robe, her feet swimming in fur-trimmed slippers that flopped as she walked.
He slipped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her ear. “I thought you were starving,” Ann laughed. “Food first.”
Rummaging about, she found eggs, a small jar of caviar, and some sour cream. Twenty minutes later, they sat down to delicious scrambled eggs and chilled champagne.
Adam ate hungrily. “You’re a hell of a cook,” he said, looking at her with new respect.
“Not as good as your Gaston, I’m afraid.”
He looked at her mischievously. “Ah, but you have so many other talents to offer.” They washed and dried the dishes, pausing every few minutes to kiss.
“Okay.” Adam smiled. “It’s time for the cook to relax.” He led her to the huge Jacuzzi, and afterward he kindled the fire and they lay on the carpet, staring into the flames.
Ann knew that this was where she belonged. Strangely, it was Phillip who had given her this gift. She would never have had the strength to break up her marriage, so now she was filled with gratitude toward her husband.
Adam too was thinking how lucky he was to be given a second chance with Ann.
All his life he had been searching for the right woman. It surely had not been Felicia, whom he had married far too young, or any of the women who had come after her. But with Ann next to him, he knew real happiness for the first time. He looked at her as she gazed into the fire and hoped she shared his contentment.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said, hoping to be reassured.
But when she turned to him she said with unexpected curiosity, “Adam, tell me about yourself. I want to know everything about you from the time you were a little boy.”
“It’s not very exciting.”
“It will be to me.”
Adam got up and poured two snifters of brandy. Then, gazing steadily at her, he began.
There was nothing to indicate that Avrum Gnetsky would achieve great fortune, but his mother, Leah, knew that there was something extraordinary about this baby. Of course she had thought that about her older three, too. She already referred to them as the Doctor, the Dentist, and the Lawyer. Obviously, there was nothing left for Avrum but to become the first Jewish President of the United States of America. Nothing could convince her otherwise as she lay in her bed in the flat above the bakery on Slotkin Street.
Inhaling the familiar smell of bread, she felt a great sense of peace. What a joy he was, that husband of hers. Yankel had run up and down those stairs a hundred times that morning just to make sure that the midwife was doing a good job. He couldn’t understand how his wife could be so serene, but to Leah, giving birth was a miracle and the pain was nothing.
Three days later, after having fed Avrum from her more than ample breast, she left him in his little basket, went downstairs, and took her usual seat on the high stool in front of the cash register. By eleven o’clock that morning, she had seventeen dollars in the till. Pleased with the morning’s take, she went upstairs and once again took Avrum to her breast, singing a lullaby which her mother had once sung to her.
It was in that aura of love that Avrum had grown up, in a family devoted to one another. When he began school at age six, there were many things about the world Avrum did not know. Among them was the fact that there were people in the world who were not Jewish, who ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, and who had yellow hair the color of cornsilk.
He also discovered that in this strange world he was called Adam. But it really didn’t bother him. He loved his teacher, and more important, he loved to learn, a desire his mother did everything to encourage. Leah spent all their extra money on books and music lessons for the boys. Each afternoon she would leave the bakery to make sure they practiced on the old upright piano. When they complained that they would rather play ball, she fed them milk and cookies and forced them to continue.
The only time that the boys were permitted to escape practice was on Friday nights when, bathed and dressed in their best, they went to the tiny shul three blocks away, where they worshiped with their father.
As the years passed, Adam’s brothers went on to college, where they fulfilled their mother’s dreams. The excellence their parents demanded began to pay off, as Max became a surgeon, Irving an engineer, and Morris an orthodontist. Leah’s only remaining goal was that Avrum become the next Clarence Darrow.
He arrived at Columbia University during the early days of the Great Depression, and, just as little Avrum had been astonished to learn that not everyone in the world was Jewish, so young Adam was appalled to discover that Jews were not welcomed with open arms at Columbia. In spite of what he was reading in the papers about events in Europe, he hadn’t really believed in the existence of systematic anti-Semitism. Now he wondered if he could cope with this threat. His older brothers quickly reassured him.
“You bet it’s tough being a Jew,” they told him. “But it’s never stopped us. We just have to work harder, and the result is that we’re better off for having been put through the extra tests. You know something? We should thank the bastards!”
One day he met a senior named Jerry Moss, who admitted that he was born Abe Moskowitz.
“Why did you change it?” Adam asked him.
“Look, Adam,” Jerry explained patiently. “A name like Moskowitz—or Gnetsky, for that matter—makes it just that much harder to hack it, particularly if you’re trying to get into a Gentile law firm, like I am. I don’t look Jewish—and neither do you. Why make things tougher than they are? So I’m not a hero. Sue me.”
Adam still wasn’t convinced. “Isn’t that like cheating? We make it and other Jews don’t?”
“Wake up, kid. I know they say that anyone in America can become President, but I don’t see any Gnetskys or Moskowitzes in the White House. Make your own decision, but I’m staying Jerry Moss.”
Adam slept badly that night; he had never really thought about being a Jew. Finally he shrugged off Jerry’s warnings, deciding that changing his name would be a betrayal of his parents. But, after graduation—he had gotten his degree in record time—he reconsidered. He was beginning law school, times were bad, and he knew that with the exception of a few firms, the New York law offices refused to hire Jews.
In a quandary, he asked his brothers for advice. They agreed that theoretically it was desirable to remain Adam Gnetsky, as they had, but given Adam’s situation, it might be better to change his name. It would be possible to do this without abandoning his faith.
So, when Adam registered at law school, it was as Adam Gayne. And, whether it was because of his elegant new name or possibly guilt over having relinquished his original name, he worked even harder than his classmates, graduating with honors and as editor of the Law Review.
In spite of his extreme youth and the Depression, he had an excellent choice of jobs. He finally settled on Williams, Stein and Brown, one of the best corporate firms in New York. He quickly acquired a host of new clients from all over the city, for besides his legal know-how, he was interested in everything—politics, charity, the arts—and he mixed well with people.
The law firm was delighted. Adam Gayne was exactly what they needed. He was shrewd, discerning, and at ease in any company. How he got his polish was a miracle, but he was in demand at parties as an excellent mimic, and his brothers had given him lots of good advice on the social graces. He dated frequently but had no strong desire to marry.
One of the partners in the firm, Daniel Brown, was especially interested in the new young associate. A widower for twenty-five years, Brown had no children of his own, but he was devoted to his sister’s only child, Felicia. Felicia was extraordinarily beautiful. As she grew into womanhood, though, he had begun to worry about her future. Painful as it was, he was forced to admit that the girl was also flighty and immature: even infantile. She needed a strong, level-headed husband to look after her, but while many young men asked her out, none became serious.
And so it was that Daniel found himself taking an appraising look at young Adam Gayne. One day Daniel invited Adam to spend a weekend at his estate on Long Island. Adam had thought that he could no longer be impressed by money. But he gasped with wonder as he drove his secondhand Buick through the wrought-iron gates, up a driveway lined with lovely oak trees, and parked in front of an exact replica of a sixteenth-century French chateau. Upon entering, he was immediately surrounded by young men in tuxedos and beautifully dressed women: the cream of what remained of the international set. The Great Depression hadn’t reached the home of Daniel Brown.
It was in that somewhat dazed condition that Adam first saw Felicia, floating down the immense black marble staircase in white silk. Adam immediately concluded she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
After dinner there was dancing, and he found himself leading Felicia to the floor. As he took her into his arms for a waltz, he couldn’t help comparing her to an exquisite Meissen figurine he had recently bought for his mother. When the music stopped, he took her hand and led her to the garden.
There, under the flickering Chinese lanterns, they stood and watched the moonlight play on Long Island Sound.
Felicia was very quiet, and Adam found himself doing all the talking. Her comments, uttered in a childlike voice, were extremely brief, and were always accompanied by her high, silvery laugh. To Adam, her reticence lent her an air of sophistication.
He had never met anyone quite like her, and soon managed to convince himself that what seemed to be shallowness was simply an amusing pose, that she had been brought up to let men do the talking. And she was so tiny, so lovely, such good company….
Adam had no way of knowing as he fell asleep that night dreaming of Felicia that she had been carefully tutored by her mama and her Uncle Daniel. She was to say little, stay away from the punch bowl, smile her enchanting smile, and agree with absolutely everything Adam said. They were determined not to let yet another eligible young man get away. If Felicia would only refrain from chattering in a way that revealed to all her utter lack of comprehension of what was being discussed, she just might land Adam Gayne.
Felicia was the sole heir to her father’s pharmaceutical company, and to her Uncle Daniel’s personal fortune, so neither her mother nor her uncle felt any qualms about their tactics. Adam would thank them one day. After all, beautiful young heiresses weren’t a dime a dozen, and the Depression was still on, wasn’t it? One never knew.
Adam soon found himself being invited to parties, receptions, and elaborate dinners at Felicia’s apartment overlooking Central Park West. He never quite knew how they became officially engaged. Everyone seemed to expect it, yet the odd, frustrating thing was that they were rarely alone; protective relatives always seemed to be hovering about. Nonetheless, still dazzled by the aura of great wealth, he almost convinced himself that he was in love with her….
They were married at the Hotel Pierre, in one of the most lavish weddings of the year. Adam’s parents were there, as well as his brothers and their wives. Leah looked regal and Yankel slightly intimidated by it all. Daniel, and Felicia’s mother, were so delighted to have married off Felicia that they managed to be cordial to the Gnetskys, who returned to Brooklyn believing that their Avrum had found the perfect bride.
Adam and Felicia honeymooned in Europe, at Daniel’s expense. London, Venice, Rome, the Riviera—there was no lack of things to do and see, and the dollar was king. Adam was delighted with his new bride—she was like an adorable, playful kitten.
The first incident occurred at Monte Carlo.
They were playing bacarrat and chemin de fer. At first he laughed when he saw her betting recklessly, a wild, unfamiliar gleam in her eye. But as time passed, he became increasingly alarmed. Felicia refused to leave the tables, and she had already lost over two thousand dollars. She had also switched from champagne to Pernod on the rocks, and was knocking back these potent drinks at an amazing rate.
Finally, when her losses hit twenty-five hundred dollars, Adam touched her on the shoulder and gently suggested that it was time to go home.
Whirling on him, she said loudly, “I’ll go home when I’m damn good and ready.” Then she went to the bar, ordered another Pernod, and returned to the tables.
Adam took her arm. “Felicia—let’s go home.”
“You let go of me!” she shrieked, and the people near them turned around and stared.
Adam’s face flushed with humiliation, but he continued to hold her arm. “Felicia—either we walk out quietly or I’ll carry you out.”
“Stop that!” she screamed. “I’m going to tell Uncle Daniel about this and he’ll fire you for being mean to me!”
This was followed by a stream of threats and insults, at which point Adam picked her up in his arms and carried her out of the casino to the amused or shocked comments of the other guests. They drove to their hotel in silence.
There was more to come. Adam discovered that when Felicia was crossed, she would fly into infantile rages, pounding him with her tiny fists and screaming hysterically. Worse, he began to understand that she had a fondness for the bottle—a penchant which her mother and her uncle were undoubtedly aware of. For Felicia was drinking far too much in restaurants and nightclubs, and often seemed tipsy even in their hotel rooms.
Loathing himself as he did it, one morning Adam went through her luggage and found several bottles of gin. Felicia had obviously been taking nips whenever he turned his back.
Confronted with the evidence, she responded with denials and threats to call her uncle. The honeymoon had turned into a disaster. They sailed for home three weeks early. Pacing the deck of the liner, Adam wondered what he had gotten himself into. Then he reflected that he was being unfair. Felicia had been spoiled since the minute she was born. He had to give her a chance to grow up. For God’s sake, the poor girl was so pathetically young…. He resolved to do what he could to help. With understanding and patience, there was no reason that Felicia couldn’t mature into an exemplary wife and mother.
He spent the rest of the voyage trying to patch up his shattered marriage. They were established in their new Park Avenue apartment for only six months when Adam finally had to admit that his wife—the woman he had pledged to spend his life with—not only had an uncontrollable temper, but a second-rate mind as well. No, that was far too kind. The truth was that Felicia was simpleminded.
He felt deceived, trapped, humiliated. Her family must have known about her failings. He investigated and learned that she had never gone to school beyond the fifth grade. The stories of tutors with PhDs and elegant Swiss schools were lies; she couldn’t speak a word of French. In addition, she was emotionally unstable and unable to assume any kind of responsibility.
Now he realized why her family had been willing to settle for Adam Gayne from Brooklyn, and he bitterly resented Daniel’s part in the sordid plot. Adam’s first thought was divorce. But, as if divining his intent, Felicia announced she was pregnant.
Nine months later, Michael was born. In spite of everything, Adam thought the world of his son, who seemed to have inherited his father’s intelligence. He lavished on the little boy all the love he was unable to feel for Felicia, and personally saw to his care and well-being. It was fortunate for little Michael that Adam did, since after the birth Felicia went completely to pieces. She became sickly and hysterical, refusing to get out of bed or to share that bed with her husband.
Adam vowed that there would be no more children, but then fate intervened. To keep up appearances, Adam and Felicia had gone to the wedding of Felicia’s cousin in Lake Placid. The famed resort was a winter wonderland, and many of the guests were staying for the weekend to enjoy it, but Adam, claiming a pressing workload, insisted on driving back to New York. Shortly after leaving, it began to snow heavily. Adam motored grimly on, but after an hour they skidded around a curve and stalled their car in a drift. The heater stopped functioning, and, even bundled in her sables and fur-lined boots, Felicia was soon shivering. When she realized that they were really stuck, she pressed her tiny body against Adam and cried, “Adam—I’m afraid! We’re going to die here—I just know it.”
Adam tried to calm her, but nothing helped. The wind howled through the bare trees, and even he was becoming alarmed as the snow continued to pile up around the car.
He strained his eyes through the windshield and finally noticed a light.
“Felicia—there’s some sort of building out there. Can you make it if I carry you?”
“Please, Adam,” she begged. “Please.”
As Adam slogged through the drifts, Felicia kept repeating, “When will we be there? When will we be there?”
After about two hundred yards they stumbled up the front steps of a small country inn and were greeted and given hot tea by the sympathetic proprietor. Felicia stood in front of the potbellied stove, trying to get warm, while Adam signed the register. Then he took her arm gently and guided her up the steep wooden steps.
Their room was small but cheerful. There was an old-fashioned four-poster with a faded down comforter on it. The rough muslin sheets scratched Felicia’s delicate skin as she climbed under the covers in her slip, shivering and sobbing, near hysteria.
Adam, totally exhausted, undressed, climbed in beside her, and turned his back to her, ready for sleep. But as the wind continued to howl and sleet pelted the rattling windows, Felicia pleaded, “Adam, please hold me. Kiss me, I’m scared. I’m scared….”
Adam groaned, then turned and put his arms around her, moved in spite of himself. At first he had no intention of making love to her, but it had been a long time, and he found it impossible not to respond. He was shortly to curse his weakness.
Nine months later a daughter was born, a blond, blue-eyed cherub whom they named Renata. She looked so much like Felicia that Adam could not immediately bring himself to love her. She was a tangible reminder of his folly.
Felicia became increasingly withdrawn and unmanageable, leaving the children entirely in the care of the nanny Adam had hired for them. They stopped entertaining altogether. She drank more and more heavily, and all she could say when he tried to talk to her about it was, “I can’t cope, Adam! I simply can’t cope with it all.”
The outside world terrified her, and at the thought of leaving the house, she became hysterical. One morning she tried to throw herself off the balcony. The maid stopped her just in time. It was then that Adam summoned her family, who agreed that she might benefit from a few months in a sanatorium.
The institutionalization was just the first of many, leaving the children entirely to Adam’s care. He was a good father, learning to love Renata as much as her brother. He felt that it was up to him to try to give them a sense of stability despite their mother’s problems. After all, they hadn’t asked to be born.
But when Michael had turned twenty and Renata eighteen, Adam had decided that it was time to consider his own needs. Even Uncle Daniel didn’t object, possibly because he felt guilty about the entire situation. Adam had just gone through the preliminary motions of divorce when Felicia signed herself out of the sanatorium near Boston where she had been for some months. Friends picked her up and drove her with them to the airport, where they took off for Greece.
They apparently hired a yacht, because several days after a long, drunken dinner, Felicia fell overboard. She was not missed until morning, and by the time her friends were sober enough to call Adam, her diminutive body had washed ashore at Mykonos.
Adam was deeply saddened when he heard the news. He had long since stopped loving Felicia, but he had certainly never wished for her death. He flew to Athens and made arrangements to have her remains sent back to America.
After the funeral, he was somewhat startled when a lawyer reminded him that he was her sole heir. They had never revised the will drawn up at their marriage.
Shortly afterward he transferred most of the money to the trust funds he had set up for Michael and Renata. To his amazement, both children objected violently to the gesture. Worse, Michael began to act as though he hated his father. Apparently the boy had felt closer to his pathetic mother than Adam had suspected, and had spent considerable time with Felicia even though Michael was officially under the care of others.
Michael had secretly blamed his father for Felicia’s mental breakdown; now he blamed him for her sordid death. Adam could keep his money; Michael was going to India with some friends. He refused to say what he would do there.
Renata was more tolerant. She said she knew that Adam had basically cared about Felicia, but she still refused either his money or his affection. She was going to live with an art teacher in New Hampshire. They would get by somehow.
Adam was appalled when she brought her boyfriend home. He was shabby, wore his black, greasy hair in a sort of pigtail, and spoke an almost incomprehensible English. Adam pleaded, cajoled, threatened. Why couldn’t she wait a few years? Renata was doing well in school—why did she want to drop out? But he failed to dissuade her. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I love you very much, but it’s my life and this is what I want.”
Since then, his children had almost vanished from his life, and the only recognition they accorded him was a Christmas card or a birthday telegram from time to time.